The Dancer
by SEZCPL
Summary: This brunette on the stage right now had ruined dance recitals for him. He couldn’t think erotic thoughts about leotards and spandex. This girl with brown hair and blue eyes meant he saw only grace, beauty, innocence and…his own fear.


"…_The smiles that win, the tints that glow,_

_But tell of days in goodness spent,_

_A mind at peace with all below,_

_A heart whose love is innocent."_

_She Walks in Beauty like the Night._

Lord Byron.

* * *

There was, he decided something lacking in high school education.

(Actually there was a lot lacking in high school education but this time he meant something specific.)

Under the section where they try to teach you to be a good Canadian citizen, they should teach you how to deal with homicidal tendencies; the urge to kill.

Derek wasn't a violent man. He had never really seen the point of wanting to carry a weapon or to truly harm someone.

Or he hadn't until _her._

_The Girl_ made him want to join the local gun club, gain his fire arms licence and spend every evening at the range, improving his aim.

Especially when she was dressed as she was now.

The dress wasn't exactly short and, honestly, there was more fabric involved than a lot of girls wore on the street right now. It was just that it _did_ something with her curves that was, frankly…indecent. And he glared at her dance teacher wondering what on earth had possessed her to choose this particular costume. It was plain grey, and possibly that stretchy stuff they make cycling shorts out of. He honestly didn't care, because it was the effect it was having on his nerves that counted most.

He was holding his breath because he could almost stomach looking at her _so long as she didn't move_. But this was a dance recital so the chances of her remaining still were remote, to say the least. He remembered reading somewhere about how "erotic" shows decades ago were allowed to include naked actors so long as they didn't move.

He wondered at the morals of a society where it was now acceptable for high school seniors to move in clothing that would have caused a riot a century ago.

Derek glanced around the room and spotted a couple of groups of _male_ high school seniors he recognised, including _her_ boyfriend.

He hoped that it wouldn't cause a riot now.

The music started and his pulse quickened because she had started to move. And it was worse than he had thought.

It should be said, this was not Derek's first dance recital. He had sat in the back of recitals before and, yes, he had watched with tightened pants as a lithesome figure moved in time to sensual jazz or horny hip-hop. His resulting dreams had been of long brown hair brushed back from shoulders exposing a shapely form, and enticing blue eyes with a warm smile as a dancer wooed her audience – namely _him_: moving, bending, stretching, jerking.

Sex was horizontal dancing.

Dancing was vertical sex.

Derek liked sex.

And until _The Girl_ he had liked watching girls dance.

This brunette on the stage right now had _ruined_ dance recitals for him. He couldn't think erotic thoughts about leotards and spandex. He couldn't appreciate the sinuous movements of a toned body now. _This_ girl with brown hair and blue eyes meant he saw only grace, beauty, innocence and…his own fear.

He saw the moment she spotted him. Her smile widened and her eyes flicked quickly to the teacher standing to one side, dressed in similar clothes and the teacher smiled back. _This woman_ too was the very epitome of grace and elegance. Her hair was untouched by grey and her figure took his breath away.

_The Girl_ was moving towards the older woman now and the teacher had reached out a hand. Derek frowned and wondered what was happening, then gasped quietly but audibly as he realised the teacher was going to be part of the dance.

He swallowed with difficulty.

The teacher was the exception to his "no dancing" rule. If the _girl_ had stolen his appreciation for the sensuality of dance, her _adult_ teacher was the good fairy who snuck in after her and handed it back – and then some. He watched the two figures mirror each other in the centre of the stage while the rest of the class framed them with their own movements.

It reminded him of his freshman year English, studying A Midsummer Night's dream. He couldn't remember anything about it, but there were fairies and shit…right?

They looked like two fairy queens, or maybe a fairy queen and her princess, dancing in the ring of the other fairies and elves.

Bewitching. The one all innocence, the other – he knew- anything but.

A Midsummer Night's Dream: Except the music was Justin Timberlake and the movements were more Beyonce than Helena.

"Wow!" The kid sitting beside him said breathlessly.

"Yeah!" Derek agreed, his voice still choked with conflicting emotions: Innocence and Experience combined.

"I don't know which of them I'd do first. The sweet little virgin or the experienced _mamma._" The spotty little oik next to him continued.

Derek's head flashed round in an instant, and he wondered what the waiting period was for gun licence applications and whether he had time to leave, track down a 12-bore and be back again without anyone missing his presence at the performance.

The Zit-oid beside him noted the hostility radiating from beside him.

"Hey chill, dude! Free speech and all that." He chuckled.

Derek placed his hand on the idiot's sleeve and squeezed very hard.

"Free speech is very hard when you don't have any teeth, asswad!" He hissed through his own gritted ones quietly.

Not quietly enough, because Sam leaned forward from the seat behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"D…man. He's not worth it. You start wiping the floor with that bag of shit in the middle of her dance recital and Casey will string you up by your balls quicker than you can say 'chopped salami'."

Derek dropped the guy's arm.

"Fine!" He hissed ominously. "I'll wait till we get outside."

Zit-oid suddenly remembered an urgent appointment and fled the room, stumbling noisily over some empty chairs at the end of the row. The dance teacher glanced across but neither she nor her charges broke their rhythm.

Behind Derek, Sam chuckled.

"Jeez Derek! When did you get so territorial?"  
His anger dissipating quickly, Derek glanced over his shoulder at his best friend.

"What if he'd said that about Charlie?" he said nodding towards the stage where an attractive blonde was part of the chorus. "You do realise he's in Charlie's year group, don't you?"

Sam frowned as the thought hadn't even occurred to him. "Fuck! What is it with these jerks?"

Derek grinned. "Now you see my point."

They were quiet now, watching the movements on the stage. There was little to show that the teacher was nearing forty, almost two decades older than her charges. She was still _flexible_ and much as he hated to admit it, Zit-oid had been right. She definitely gave off vibes of _experience._ Derek's hands grew clammy and his mind started to wander through pleasant thoughts: thoughts of the dance teacher and just exactly _how_ flexible she was. He could make out the line of her breasts through the clinging fabric, and he could see that she was getting a lot out of the dance. Either that or it was colder than it looked up there on the stage.

He frowned as he realised every hot-blooded male in the room had probably noticed that fact too.

"Interesting outfits." Sam said from behind him, as if confirming Derek's own thoughts. "Where did they get them?"

Derek hoped that Sam wasn't interested for any reason other than making conversation.

"Nora made them."

"Seriously? Wow! She's good with a sewing machine!"

Maybe Derek should thank Sam for the new mental image. Nora sitting hunched over a sewing machine was almost as good as a cold shower. Hot though, he had to admit his step-mom was he just couldn't have _those_ thoughts about her. Her daughter on the other hand…

Then the dancing teacher bent over backwards, leaning on the floor with one hand, crab-like while she bounced her body at the audience. Derek hissed a breath and heard Sam almost giggling behind him.

"You know. I never understood those guys who had crushes on teachers before, but suddenly…"  
"Fuck off, Sam. Inappropriate…much!"

Sam did giggle then. A sort of man-giggle. Derek rolled his eyes and tried to look nonchalant.

He failed.

"I take it the routine hasn't been practiced at home this time."  
"No."

"Why not?"

Derek sighed. "I didn't react well to the rehearsal for the last recital."

"Oh?"

"I had to buy Casey a new stereo."

"Why?"

"It broke."

Sam looked confused. Derek elaborated.

"I threw a cushion at it. It fell off the unit and smashed."

His best friend laughed. "What did Casey say?"

"You really don't want to know."

"I do."

"Threats of a personal nature were made."

"Coy? Derek. Not like you."

"Okay. She threatened to shove a broom handle up my…God! Why am I even telling you? You know what Casey's like when she's pissed at me. Hell! You dated her for months…several months of the worst period in our relationship."

"She was fifteen. I'm assuming she's grown up since then."  
Derek snorted softly, knowing his life wouldn't be worth living if he disturbed the action in front of him.

"That is debatable."  
Sam leaned forward. "She certainly looks grown up." He said suggestively, nodding towards the stage.

"Fuck off, Sam."

Sam looked around the room. "I see Liselle's boyfriend is here."

"Are you seriously trying to wind me up?"

Sam shook his head.

"No. I'll drop it. Okay?"

"Thanks Sam. I appreciate it."

The rest of the dance passed uneventfully and although Derek was tempted, when it finally finished he didn't leap up on stage and wrap the young dancer up in his coat. Casey would have bawled him out over that.

Instead, as the dancers formed their final tableau and the music was left to die away, he watched and waited. Eventually, the rest of the audience left and it was just him and Sam sitting among the rows of plastic chairs.

A few moments later, and the brunette with the blue eyes who held a sizable portion of his heart came skipping towards him from a side door.

"You came!" She squealed and threw herself at him.

He chuckled, and caught her carefully, noting the gentle scent of her shampoo still gracing her hair, and the sparkle in her eyes.

"Of course, princess. Where else would I be on a Saturday afternoon?"  
"But there's a hockey match on TV!" She protested. Derek grinned.

"Which I will watch when we get home. Now, onto more important things. You were great…beautiful as always…but what the _hell_ were you wearing?"

"Der-ek! Don't be such a prude!"

He glanced up at the speaker who, yet again, had sneaked up on him. The dance teacher.

"I'm not a prude. It's just those clothes were too…erm…" his voice trailed away under the glare from the two females in front of him. "Nevermind." He said in the face of an argument he had already lost many times before. Somewhere behind him, he heard Sam sniggering again. He flicked him the bird.

"Der-ek!"

"Dad-dy!"

Two identical voices reprimanded him.

Like Mother, Like Daughter.

"What?" he quizzed again.

Casey grinned at him, her eyes sparkling. "Aw! I thought teenaged Derek left the building twenty years ago. It's _so_ nice to see I can still whip him up into a frenzy. So you didn't like our costumes?"

"Grandma will be disappointed." Liselle said, absentmindedly as she texted her boyfriend that she would meet him outside in five minutes. "She said mom wore a dress like that when you danced with her years ago."

Derek looked at his daughter. "Hmm. I thought it was too revealing then. What makes you think I would think any differently now?"

Casey laughed. "No you didn't Derek. As I recall, your eyes bugged out of your head back then." She teased. "I guess it must have been a shock to find that your step-sister could look hot."

"I gotta go." Liselle announced, suddenly wanting to be away from this conversation. She pecked Derek and Casey on their cheeks. "Tristan is waiting."

"Lise!" Derek called after her. "Tell Tristan I want you home before ten. You know…when I get back from the _gun club_."

"Dad-dy! Don't be ridiculous!" Lise shouted over her shoulder, waving one hand and texting with the other.

Derek turned back to Casey, and Sam who had materialised beside him. They were both laughing at him.

"What?"

Casey smiled. "Nothing hun. I guess it's just life sticking two fingers up at you."

"Oh?"

"Giving Derek Venturi a teenaged daughter…"

Sam snorted. "Let's face it D, there were rather a large number of fathers in our neighbourhood who joined gun clubs when their daughters announced they shared a class with _you_."

"I wasn't _that _bad." He protested.

"_They _didn't know that." Sam replied.

Casey sighed. "You really don't like Tristan do you?"

Derek mumbled something that sounded like "Truman." Casey smirked.

"Nineteen years of marriage and you still hate him?"

Before Derek could reply the cute blonde from the chorus appeared and bounded up to Sam.

"Hi Dad! What did you think?"

"Amazing Angel! Your mom would have been so proud." He said, his voice getting softer as his lips were buried in her hair.

There was a quiet second as they all pondered absent friends and life's pot holes. Then Sam gathered his Charlie into his arm and waved a hand at Casey and Derek.

"We need to be off. Emily's watching Harry for me but she says she can only take him in small doses. She says he spends far too much time with Ralph's two."

Derek grinned. "Em's right. But Harry's no worse than most. Emily's just sore she never found Mr Right and produced her own devils."

Sam chuckled. "I know. She tried hard enough but all she found was Mr Uh-oh, Mr No-no and Mr Never."

Even Casey smiled slightly and stretched to kiss Charlie and Sam on the cheeks.

"Well done Charlie. Next time I think we'll try you up front. I've got an idea for something for four leads and it would really suit you and Liselle."

Charlie beamed. Lise was her best friend and they were itching to perform a duet.

Sam and daughter left the hall ahead of Casey and Derek.

Derek watched as Casey started picking up the scattered programmes from around the room. Despite her experiences through life there were times when he still saw the innocence in her, and for that he was glad. There had been ups and downs over the years, and he had hated every time that a slither of innocence dropped from her eyes. But, he was proud of himself, because to the best of his knowledge, none of that pain had come from him. Not even when she had insisted on naming their daughter after a character in a fantasy novel. (The way he saw it, at least she didn't name her Leia)

He had made a promise to himself more than twenty years ago that he would protect her. He sworn an oath to God and the state nineteen years ago and whilst he was guilty of taking her innocence, _that_ had been freely given.

He groaned to himself as his mind went back to her earlier dance at exactly the same moment as she bent over in front of him to retrieve a printed booklet, her ass wiggling slightly.

"Case…don't do that to me." he complained.

She straightened, frowning.

"Do what?"

"You know very well." He said, narrowing his eyes.

Her eyes widened with an exaggerated innocence and then he _knew_ the wiggle was deliberate.

"Venturi." He said carefully. "You wiggle that butt near me again and I will not be responsible for my actions."

"Oh?" His wife replied, turning back to her task with a flounce of her hips.

Derek pounced and Casey shrieked.

"Der-ek!" She giggled into his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her.

The Principal stuck his head around the door.

"Every thing okay Mrs Venturi?" He called, eyeing Derek suspiciously. (He'd read the Venturi Files.)

"Perfect, Mr Mulhearn. We were just leaving."

The Principal nodded and withdrew.

"Where were we?" Casey asked, her body by now pressed up against the front of the stage.

"You were just about to take me home, put on that little grey outfit of yours and demonstrate that crab manoeuvre again." Her husband replied.

"You wish. What about the younger kids?"

"Well now that Emily's finished at Sam's we'll give her a call and ask her to come get our three."

Casey gave him a look.

He chuckled. "I dropped them at Dad and Nora's for a sleepover before I came here. Lise is out till late. The others are away for the night. It's just you and me, babe."  
His wife rolled her eyes. "Whatever happened to you joining a gun club tonight?" She asked, wondering whether he would ever stop wanting to make love to her every day– or vice versa.

Derek smirked. "I'm starting my own _gun_ club, Casey. Let's go home and I'll show you my AK47."

"Der-ek!" She groaned. "That's just…ew! Bad line."

He laughed. "How about we go home and I make love to my beautiful wife?"

"Better." She said, leaning in for a kiss.

They walked towards the door, Derek's arm around her waist.

"Did you like the dance?" Casey asked.

"Loved it." Derek lied. "When's the next one?

~FIN~.


End file.
